


A Night at the Circus

by LODL



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Circus, Friendship, Red Room (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 10:47:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18893080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LODL/pseuds/LODL
Summary: Natasha decides to have some fun and spends a night at a travelling circus.





	A Night at the Circus

**Author's Note:**

> This is a slightly rewritten version of a work I originally posted on FF.net. I'm no great writer but once in a while a story gets stuck in my head and I just have to post it.

The train rattled steadily down the tracks, the rhythm lulling Natasha to a peaceful sleep late that night. She though this train was much more comfortable than the luggage compartment on the plane she hid on last night and she was finally out of Europe so she could relax a little.

“Oh!” She heard above her. “Sweetheart are you alright?” She blinked her eyes slowly in the early morning sun as she looked up at the person standing over her. She froze until she recalled that she wasn’t with the Red Room right now. She wouldn’t be ever again. “What's your name? Are you alone?” Natasha didn't answer but eyed him cautiously. “Can I help you find your seat?”

“ **Don’t call me sweetheart,** ” She responded in Russian. She rubbed her eyes, gathering herself in case this man tried anything. 

“Um, are your parents on one of the cars? Do you know their seat numbers? I can help you get back to them. How did you get back here anyway?”

“ **Your security is terrible.”**

“Do you, um, speak English? I suppose I could try to find someone who speaks… What language are you speaking?” 

Natasha rolled her eyes and gave him a judgmental look but it must have come across as fear on her young face because the conductor quickly sat down and told her not to cry. Natasha rolled her eyes again before switching to English. “That won’t be necessary. I speak English too.”

“Oh! Well that’s good. So where are your folks? Where are you headed? Maybe we can find them by looking up their tickets.”

She paused. Where was she going? When she left she didn't really have a destination in mind. Just not Russia. So she ignored his questions. 

“Where are we?” She glanced through the crack in the loading door off to her left seeing what looked like an endless sea of farmland. 

“Just passing through Iowa now. Where are you headed?” he tried again.

Natasha paused and looked between the conductor and the door. 

“Here's good enough.” She leaped past him and vaulted out the door. 

_____

Natasha found a dirt road in the middle of a field and, as it was the only thing in sight that wasn’t crops, decided to follow it. She seemed to be in a pretty rural area and figured the road had to lead to whatever kind of civilization Iowa (where was that anyway?) had to offer. She didn't worry about the kinds of looks she would get from people driving by. There wasn’t any traffic and if anyone stopped to ask her why a little kid was walking down the road alone she had ways of silencing them. 

After hours of walking she saw a town starting to peek up above the hill. Inwardly sighing in relief, Natasha picked up her pace. She hadn't eaten more than the crackers she stole on the plane in two days. The town was quiet and everyone seemed friendly enough other than one old woman who reprimanded her for cutting school.

She walked past two restaurants but without any money she wouldn’t get very far. It would be too much work to steal anything from them and nothing would be cooked. Instead she opted for the convenience store down the street. It was small but it would be easier for her to grab some sandwiches and sneak out. She was glad she was wearing a baggy jacket. 

She ducked through the door, glancing at the uncaring attendant behind the counter, and turned down the first empty aisle. She looked around at the sugary treats and wrinkled her nose. She'd never been one for candy but she didn't mind ginger snaps. She grabbed a little box of the cookies and stuffed it in her coat pocket. Next she wandered down a refrigerated foods aisle and snagged a couple sandwiches and added those to her stash. She grabbed an apple juice to top it all off and walked back to the front. 

“Do you have any maps of the town? My… mom and I haven’t been here before and don’t know our way around.” He handed a little folding map to her after she had him circle the library, grocery store, and a few other important places. 

She walked around for a little while, glad once school let out that she wouldn’t get any more looks from angry grannies telling her she should be in class. She pulled one of the sandwiches out while she was walking and took a bite, relieved to have some food in her stomach. 

The library was small, but not as small as she would have thought looking at the town. She settled in a corner with bean bags and couches and started flipping through atlases trying to figure out where she wanted to go. Nothing caught her eye. New York? Too big. Texas? Too Hot. North Dakota? Did anyone actually live there? Sighing, she flipped the book shut and glanced around at the bulletin boards nearby. There was a lost cat poster, a tutoring service, and a colorful poster for a traveling circus. 

“ONE WEEK ONLY. CATCH THE LION TAMER, THE JUGGLING BEARS, AND FOR A SPECIAL TREAT: THE AMAZING SWORDSMAN, TRICK SHOT, AND THEIR NEW PROTÉGÉ.” 

Natasha had never seen a circus before and figured now was as good a time as any. She was no longer following orders and had to answer only to herself. She was going to have some fun. 

_____

She waited by the edge for a big family to walk with, hiding in the throng so the ticket taker would assume she belonged to them. Slipping away again, and watchful of everyone around her, Natasha stood by the seats and peeked into the ring. The juggling bears were ok but she thought the lion should eat his tamer. She was just about to give up when a pair of adults and a kid were taking the ring. This must be that special show she read about on the poster.

The announcer called Swordsman and Trick Shot and the two adults bowed dramatically in turn. The kid stood behind them. He must be the protégé. Swordsman and Trick Shot took turns doing amazing feat; throwing knives, shooting arrows, cutting up dummies. Nothing too impressive, she thought. She and all the other black widows could do that too, and even better.

After more of that, they announced the kid behind them with a flourish. He stepped forward with a small bow and quiver and bowed tightly. Trick Shot picked up his own bow and shot an arrow. The kid would copy the shot almost exactly and after a while Swordsman put a blindfold on the kid. He continued to copy Trick Shot’s aim and hit the target with almost as much precision. 

“Must be a trick,” thought Natasha. No one outside of the Red Room had aim that good. Especially not a kid. She rolled her eyes as the show finished and acrobats went on stage. She turned and walked out of the tent. Maybe she could sneak a cotton candy or something away from the vendors before the crowds flooded out of the tents.

As she meandered between tents she heard a whispered argument from around the corner of a small prop trailer. She snuck closer and tried to listen in, catching the tail end of what sounded like a pretty harsh lashing.

“-giving me that attitude! We took you in when you had no one. Now you do what we say or this sword won’t just be for show.” There was a resounding smack and the sound of feet walking away. Natasha peeked around the corner and saw Swordsman stalking away from the kid. The kid meanwhile hung his head slightly, trying to stay strong. And to pretend the new bruise on his cheek wasn't there. He was still holding his bow and arrows. 

Natasha waited for the Swordsman to be completely out of sight before she approached.  She walked quietly so she was only a foot away from the boy before he noticed and looked up. He looked startled and cautious but he didn't run.

“Hi.” Natasha ventured. 

The boy continued to stare, confused. 

“How did you fake those shots back there? They almost looked real.” She tried again. 

Looking defensive and almost hurt, the boy finally spoke up. “They weren't faked!”

“Come on, no way a kid could make that shot. Aside from me, but I prefer guns to arrows.” 

A new look of confusion passed across the boy's face but instead of speaking he simply raised the bow and set an arrow on the string. “Pick a target,”  he challenged. 

Natasha raised one red eyebrow and nodded, looking around for something suitable. Her eyes narrowed as she picked a target and pointed. “There. Hit that.” She had chosen an old corner of paper still stuck to a staple on a telephone pole. It was a small target a good distance away. 

“Fine.” He nodded. The calmly drew back the arrow and let it fly, hitting the scrap in the center. “There. See? Not fake.” He was about to argue more when Natasha saw Trick Shot and the Swordsman arguing and walking toward them.

Natasha grabbed the boy's arm and pulled him into the nearby tent before the two men saw them. 

“Hey! What are you-” Natasha clapped a hand over the boy's mouth and pointed in the direction of the argument outside until the men passed by. She glared at him then moved to sit on the ground. They were in a tent that didn't seem to be used much so she felt safe staying for at least a minute. The kid looked at Natasha gratefully. “Hey thanks. Why'd you do that?”

Natasha shrugged. “I don't like men who hit kids.” 

“You say that like you're not a kid, too.” The boy argued as he sat across from her. Natasha shrugged again. “So what's your name, anyway? And why do you have that accent? And what did you mean you prefer guns?”

Natasha eyed him for a long while before deciding it was safe to tell him. “Natasha. I'm from Russia. And I meant that I prefer guns.” She said, not really clarifying matters. She looked to him expectantly. 

“Oh. Right. I'm Clinton Barton.” He stick out his hand which Natasha gingerly accepted and shook. 

“Nice to meet you Clint.” She said. 

“Oh, uh, it's Clinton. Not-” Clint caught sight of her glare and revised his statement. “Y’know, Clint is fine too.” Natasha nodded resolutely. 

“So how old are you? And why are you in a circus?” She asked. 

“I'm nine,” Clint answered proudly. Natasha knew he was ignoring the rest of her question but decided not to press matters when she hears his stomach growl. She peeked longingly at the other sandwich in her pocket and decided she could always steal another. She pulled it out and handed it to him. 

He paused and looked at her before taking it and unwrapping it. “Thanks,” he said sheepishly. “Sho ho olt rr ou?” He asked through a mouth full of sandwich. 

“Eight.” She looked at him defensively. People always looked down on her when she told them how old she was. 

Clint gulped down his sandwich and boggled at her. “You're eight and you shoot guns?! Awesome.” He took another bite, nodding to himself. 

Natasha found herself smiling. She decided she liked this boy, Clint. She pulled the box of cookies out of her coat and held them out to share. 

“Thanks.” Clint said again. He took a cookie and smiled as he ate it. 

Outside Natasha could hear people calling for Clint and she saw his face fall. 

“You don't like it here.” She ventured almost accusingly. 

Clint paused and gingerly put a hand to the bruise forming on his cheek. Anger flashed through Natasha's eyes and she stood quickly. Clint looked alarmed as Natasha held a hand out to him. “Come on.” She said in the most determined voice Clint had ever heard from a child. 

In a mix of curiosity, fear, and hope, he took her hand and stood. She led him to the other side of the tent and peeked out carefully. She didn't see anyone so she pulled Clint’s hand and started running. 

She ducked behind every bench, tent, and trailer between her and the exit, listening carefully for the sounds of Clint’s trainers. It wasn't until they were almost out the gate when she heard their voices again, still calling for Clint. 

They were getting angrier and Clint's eyes went wide with the fear of being caught. Natasha listed for their direction and picked up a rock. Waiting until the last second she tossed the rock across the path to a trash can. Hearing the noise, Trick Shot and the Swordsman turned and ran in the wrong direction. 

Natasha smiled with a mischievous glint in her eyes and tugged Clint through the gate. She didn't stop running until they were on the steps of the library in town. 

“We can hide in here as long as we need to. At least until the circus leaves town.” Natasha panted, her hand still in Clint's. 

Clint breathed hard, staring at Natasha. He started giggling. Natasha gave him an incredulous look. “What?” She asked. 

“What are we going to do after that? Where are we going to go?” Clint asked, trying to get himself under control. Natasha paused. 

Calmly she pulled him to her corner of the library and opened the atlas again. 

“Pick somewhere.” She said coolly. 

Clint stared at her for a minute before taking the atlas and flipping to the index. 

“Where's Budapest?” He asked. “That sounds cool.”


End file.
